


Honeythief

by PacketofRedApples



Category: Alan Wake (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Mental Institutions, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Explicit, non-con warning for implications, originally posted on lj in 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:54:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25054216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacketofRedApples/pseuds/PacketofRedApples
Summary: Mr. Scratch can reach Alan everywhere.
Relationships: Mr. Scratch/Alan Wake
Kudos: 9





	Honeythief

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old drabble I found on my LJ, figured why not share since it's kind of decent and in line with what I currently write. I have more fics, on LJ I am contemplating posting. But I don't know if that's wise...  
> Have fun roasting this though, since all my fics suck anyway.

There he should have felt serenity, sitting in the brightly lit room, but instead, he was angry, exhausted, and felt even more rigid then he had ever before. For the past two and a half hours, he had been in a staring contest with the surveillance camera to which he was sadly losing. The writer's sleep-deprived, his eyes dry.  
  
Alan rested his head against the cushioned wall wondering when they’ll let him out. It was his own fault he was here. He threw a tantrum to land him here…he should have been more considerate, shouldn't have panicked when the lights were out and he didn't have a gun and a flashlight in hand. They all bent but only he broke, he went through the worst of it all. It got too deep into his mind.  
The lights above flicker and he’s scared; crawls into a little ball, covering his head with his arms.  
  
Wake tries not to yelp when the light goes out. He knows what’s coming and he has no way to protect himself, no gun, no flashlight…no manuscript to help. Chills run down his spine, he can only hear his heartbeat, so loud now. It's the only thing Alan can hear for a while until two rough hands grab him and push him on his back. He shuts his eyes tight as if that could help him somehow.  
  
Lying on his back he feels how he’s being pinned down, the other body above him hovers, breathing over his ear before the words slip out  
“Wakey wakey Wake, open those big blue orbs of yours.” The voice sounds wrong, a sick parody of his.  
  
Alan knows why his double is here, he enjoys torturing him like this. When he can't fight back when he himself can do almost anything.  
  
Seeing as the command given was being ignored, he sights in mock exasperation, then presses down atop the man, The herald straddles him, forcing his hands away from his head roughly, sure to leave bruises in the shape of _their_ hands.  
  
“I told you to open your eyes.” Scratch’s voice is stern and dangerous. Reluctantly Alan does so, watching his doppelganger in disgust and fear, wondering what may happen now, but he could guess. Some sick game to hurt him, make him seems as if the 'mental wreck' was self-harming...or maybe he'll just mess with his mind. Alan couldn't make out which one was worse.  
  
Scratch quickly grabs a handful of the writer’s hair to hold him in place as his other hand wandered under Wake’s shirt, pure indulgence on his behalf. Alan fidgets, trying to fight the hold in some way, but freezes when Scratch smirks and leans back to his ear to whisper:  
“You know, I still don’t think you believe me when I say I used to be _very_ lonely.”  
  
Alan wants to break out of the grasp and run till there’s nowhere else to run, but his body doesn't react. He feels the herald’s shadows wrap around his arms and legs, distressing. He doesn't understand, his skin feels as if it’s heating, but his blood is frosting as Scratch looks into his eyes.  
  
“Your existence has been taunting me for a while.” He coldly adds. Scratch cups his face and kisses him lightly, pulls away just slightly. “Does this make it worse?”  
  
Any response gets caught in Wake’s throat; the herald smiles and proceeds to leave pecks along the other man's jaw and neck, later adding: “I imagine that it does.”  
  
Alan moans out lightly from the pain his double causes him when he bites him, just to draw blood and to leave a mark.  
  
“Bastard!” Alan finally manages, but his response is only a low chuckle which angers him even more. Scratch sits up to take off his jacket, the entire time watching the writer. Alan feels repulsed at the look, like one of a child intending to break his favorite toy just for kicks.  
  
Fucking bastard.


End file.
